Finally, the Truth
by restinpace
Summary: AU. Aaron learns the truth about his parentage.


**Don't own. This title was inspired by a line from **_**Harry Potter**_

  
Finally, the Truth

**Chapter 1: A Disturbing Phone Call**

Aaron Austen let the door slam shut behind him.

"Aaron, honey, is something the matter?" asked his mom.

"Oh, it's just that Clementine girl, she asked me out again. She's so annoying; can't she tell I'm not interested?"

"Well, her mom _is _my good friend, you know. You have to be nice to her, even if she annoys you."

"Oh, Mom, do I have to?" whined Aaron.

"Yes you have to," replied his mom. "You know, maybe if you went out with her once she might stop pestering you."

"No way," said Aaron, aghast. "If I went out with her, she'd go bragging to all her little friends about how I went out with her and then _they'd _all annoy me."

"Well you are the best looking in your class," said his mom fondly. "I really don't know where you got your looks from, certainly not from me. Nobody in my family has blonde hair."

"Dad didn't have blonde hair?" asked Aaron.

"No," his mom stiffened, as she always did when his father was mentioned. "Honey, I have work to do, please go upstairs and get started on your homework."

Aaron sighed, and slowly climbed up the stairs. He knew he shouldn't have made the remark about his dad, it got his mom all upset with him, but he was just so curious. All his mom had told him was that his dad was a drug addict and a drunk and that was what had driven them apart. She also told him that he had eventually died in a plane crash. His mom had never even mentioned his name, never even shown Aaron a picture of him. Aaron didn't even know if the man his mom had been engaged to was his biological father. He'd just assumed he was.

Reaching his room, Aaron pushed open the door. It was much messier than the rest of the house. His mom didn't even bother paying the cleaning lady to clean it. Posters covered the walls, and the floor was scattered with all sorts of footballs, baseballs, and other sports equipment. There was a bookshelf in one corner of the room. It had all Aaron's favorite books, like _Alex Rider _and _H.I.V.E. _It also had short biographies on famous sports stars. He sat down on his bed, and noticed that the red light on his phone was blinking, indicating that he had a new message. This surprised Aaron. His friends never left messages. It must be some adult. This was also strange. He hadn't heard an adult on the phone for two years. Not since he had become popular and his mom, sick of receiving phone calls from kids while she was trying to work, had gotten him his own phone line.

Aaron stared at the phone for a minute before playing the message. _Hi Aaron, my name is Desmond Hume. You don't know me, but I knew your mother. I have information you might want about your family history. I would've called you earlier, but it's taken me awhile to find your number. If you're interested, call me back at this number._

Aaron quickly copied down the number. The man had sounded Scottish. When had his mom ever been to Scotland? Maybe _this_ was his dad and his mom had been lying to him about his death. He felt a thrill of excitement at finally meeting his dad after all these years.

Aaron quickly crept downstairs, grabbed a banana, and peeked into his mom's study. She was hard at work and looked like she would be busy for awhile. Aaron ran back upstairs and, heart pounding, dialed the number.

It rang twice before it was answered. "Hello, Widmore and Hume Associates, how may I help you?"

Aaron swallowed nervously, "my name is Aaron Austen. This may sound like a joke, but a man named Desmond Hume called me and told me to call him back. Can I speak to him please?"

"One moment," said the receptionist.

Aaron waited; it had not escaped his notice that the man who had called him had the same name as the company that Aaron had just called. Obviously, this man was very important. Aaron had no idea why he had contacted him.

Pretty soon, the phone was picked up again. "Hello," said a man. There was no mistaking that accent. This was definitely Desmond Hume.

"Hi, I'm Aaron Austen."

"Aaron!" the man sounded delighted. "I wondered if you'd call back. How are you?"

"I'm fine sir. How are you?"

"Oh, there's no need to call me sir. Call me Desmond."

"Yes, s-Desmond. Um, I don't mean to sound rude, but why exactly did you call me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry; I forgot you have no idea who I am. I was just so happy to hear an American accent again. It's been so long. Anyway, the reason I called is, as I told you on the message, to tell you about your family history. Only if you're interested, of course."

"I'm interested. Are you my father?"

"Your-" the man started laughing. "Sorry, no, actually I have no clue who your father is. I wanted to talk to you about your mother."

"What about my mom?"

"She's not who you think she is."

"What do you mean she's not who I think she is? She's my mom. I know her better than anybody. Who else would she be?" Aaron was nearly shouting by the end.

"Aaron, listen to me, Kate Austen is not your mother."


End file.
